


Stancest: The Collection

by Cheeziswin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Rating subject to change, Sibling Incest, Stancest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeziswin/pseuds/Cheeziswin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of drabbles and oneshots written for the Stancest ship. (Edit 7/24/15 - Names have now been fixed! The Author is Stanford, and Grunkle Stan is Stanley.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 5/7/2015

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests over on my Tumblr, and I decided to collect all of them here on AO3. I'll be writing the prompt I got at the beginning of each story, including any warnings that may apply. All of these go unbeta'd and are thought up, written, and edited all within the span of half an hour, so I apologize for any quality issues.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt: Too drunk to find my own bed.**

Ford hears the front door slam shut from his bed. It causes him to glance up from his book and shake his head. It’s past midnight on a Saturday. Chances of his brother being sober are slim. 

His suspicions were confirmed when his brother stumbled into his room, using the door handle to steady himself. Ford set down his book as Stanley slowly let go of the doorknob and made 2 wobbly steps towards his bed. The bed creaked as he flopped down face first onto his brothers bed.

“Really?” Stanford huffs with agitation. “This isn’t your  _bed_ , Lee.”

Lee slurs something unintelligible into the pillow.

Ford sighs and moves his book onto the nightstand. Stanley rolls onto his side, facing away from his brother, and hums contentedly. A six fingered hand gently shakes him and he groans.

“Go to your  _own_  room.” Ford says firmly, giving his brother’s shoulder a squeeze.

“’M already layin’ down.” Lee replies as he adjusts the pillow beneath his head.

“Please?“ 

" _No_.” Comes the stubborn response.

Ford scoffs. There’s no use fighting with him. He flicks the desk lamp off and settles in next to his brother, their backs just barely touching. He pulls the blanket up to his neck as he whispers a “Goodnight, Lee.”

A snore is all he gets back.


	2. 5/8/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt: Lee drunkenly hitting on Ford**

Ford leaned against the wall, eyes roving over the paintings on the wall. The wall vibrated against his back with the booming music coming from the next room over. He idly swirled his drink in his plastic cup as he admired the brush strokes of a landscape painting. It looked like it could have been a Van Gogh, with the way the-

A loud hoot pulled him from his pondering. He turned towards the source of the noise, and was taken aback when it was his brother.

Lee had a giant smile on his face as he walked down the hall towards Ford, a beer bottle held loosely in his hand.

Stanford yelped as he was pulled into a half hug by his brother, drink sloshing out onto his shirt.

Lee laughed heartily as Ford futilely tried to rub the water from his shirt, shaking the both of them with his guttural laughter. The alcohol on his brothers breath stung his nose.

“What’s a looker like you doing out here?” Lee asked, giving a sideways smile to the man tucked under his arm.

Stanford blinked, frown forming on his face. “Excuse me?”

Lee nudged his head towards the wall, towards the bustling room next door. “You should be in there dancing.”

Ford clicks his tongue and shrugs as best he can with an arm squishing him. “Not much to do in there.”

“Don’t tell me you came alone?” Lee says in drunkenly exaggerated shock.

He gives an exasperated look at his brother. “You’re the one that  _drove_  us here, Lee!" 

"I did?” Lee questions, squinting at the ceiling in thought. 

“We’ve only been here an hour! How are you already drunk?” Ford says in incredulity.

“I wouldn’t say  _drunk_.” Stanley pouts.

Ford shakes his head in stunned annoyance. He can’t believe this. “Let’s get you home.”

“Whoa, you work fast.” Lee smirks, leaning his face closer to Stanford's, making his heart jump.

Stanford gently pushes Lee away as he nervously laughs. He pulls the arm off of his shoulder and starts to make his way past his brother when Ford grabs hold of his hand.

Ford jumps and turns towards his brother in shock, but Lee just has a goofy, oblivious grin on his face. Stanford blushes and leads his brother towards the door.

Lee doesn’t let go of his hand the whole walk to their car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got super lazy towards the end of this one.


	3. 5/9/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt: An accidental kiss between Stanford and Stanley.**

The two brothers sat tense on the couch, eyes watching the television intently.  Stanford was wringing his hands in anticipation, and Stanley was gripping his soda so tightly the tinfoil was indented.

Cheers from the crowd and quips from the announcer could be heard from the TV. Salvador Sánchez and Danny Lopez shuffled around the ring, making small jabs at each other. Both looked ready to fall at any moment.

“Come on, Sánchez…” Stanley whispered with hope, just as Salvador landed a hard right uppercut on Lopez. Lopez sagged and the crowd went into an uproar.

Ford and Lee leapt from their seats with hollers of joy. They jumped with excitement as Stanley gave a fist pump and a victorious “ _Yes!_ ”

In Ford’s jubilation, he threw his arms around his brother’s neck and pulled him into a smiling kiss.

Lee's eyes went wide and he tensed. Ford’s eyes shot open and he yanked away in shock.

Both of their faces went rose red. Ford cleared his throat as Lee brought a stunned hand up to his lips.

“Sorry, that… Uhm…” Ford said awkwardly, bringing a shaking hand to the back of his neck.

“No, that’s alright!” Lee replied too quickly, waving his hands reassuringly in front of him.

They stood there in an awkward silence for a while, avoiding eye contact as best they could. 

Lee let out a breath and glanced at his brother. “So, uh… Victory dinner?”

Ford gave a nod of approval to his brother. “That sounds wonderful.”


	4. 5/14/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt: Lee acting like a Mother Hen towards Ford post-NWHS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's two short fics on this one because I rushed the first one, and it wasn't exactly what the person had asked for. Both are the same general idea, though.

“ _Ow!_ ” Ford hissed as he pulled his hand away from the knife he was using to cut a burnt piece from his coat.

Lees head immediately whipped up from where he was heating a can of brown meat. Without hesitation he dropped what he was doing and went over to his brother.

“You alright?” He quickly asked, trying and miserably failing to hide the worry in his voice.

“Yeah. Just a little cut.” Ford grumbled as he brought his finger up to his lips to suck on the wound.

Stanley yanked Ford’s hand away from his mouth with a pop. Blood immediately welled up in the thin cut, making Lees eyebrows knit together in worry. He reached up onto the shelf behind them and pulled a small wrap of gauze and a tube of neosporin from it.

He took hold of Ford’s hand again and silently wrapped it as best he could in the low light. The grip Lee had was gentle as he tied a knot into the gauze. After thirty years, he’d almost forgotten how gentle his brother could be with him.

Once Lee finished, Ford examined his hand before giving a quiet thanks to his brother in the form of a pat on the shoulder. Lee nodded and gave a little smile in return.

Mabel lifted her head from her coloring book and sniffed. “Is something burning?”

* * *

 

“Eat up.” Stanley commanded, extending an open can of food to Ford.

Ford barely looked up at the can before looking back down to the map he was editing, without a word.

The table shook as Lee slammed the can down onto his brothers map. Some grease flung out onto the intricate line work, making Ford grimace.

“ _Eat._ ” Lee commanded again.

Ford glared at Stan over his glasses as he begrudgingly grabbed the can from off the desk. Lee pulled up a chair as Ford leaned back in his own, taking a small spoonful of mashed meat.

Stan seemed to relax more after he took that first bite. He leaned his elbows onto the table in front of him and stared at his brother as he ate.

Ford ignored him entirely as he slowly made his way through the can. Neither exchanged a word until the can was half empty. The only sound in the bunker was the sound of Ford’s spoon clinking against the can.

“How’s your arm doing?”

Ford paused in his eating, looking to the bandage tied around his arm before shrugging.

Lee wasn’t exactly satisfied with that answer, but he decided to leave it for another day. He’ll check on it himself next time Ford’s sleeping.

“Did you sleep alright last night?” Lee questioned, trying to get a conversation going. They’d barely talked since he came out of the portal.

“Fine.” Ford replied flatly, mouth full of food.

Stanley knew that was a lie. He could hear him tossing all night on the floor.

“You sure you’re alright?” Lee pressed.

Ford set down the empty can on the side of the table, and finally looked at his brother. His gaze was level, no emotion on it at all. It made Lee’s heart clench in worry.

“I’m _fine_ , Lee. ” Ford said gruffly. The slight bags under his foggy eyes betrayed his lie.

Lee stared intently at his brother, but Ford wasn’t going to break. Stan shook his head and ran a hand through his grey hair, worry he had for his brother only growing worse after this conversation. If you could even call it a conversation.

“I’m just worried for you, Bro.” Lee whispered under his breath, fisting his hand in his hair.

Ford’s eyes softened and he sighed through his nose. He glanced around the room before sliding his hand over his brothers.

Lee jumped at the touch. He stared at his brothers cold hand over his own before he looked up at his brothers reassuring gaze. Worry seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced with a much warmer feeling.

“Thank you for worrying about me, but…” Ford started. Lee waited patiently, hanging on Ford’s words. “Give me a bit of time.”

Lee flipped his hand over in order the tenderly grab hold of Ford’s. He lightly caressed his hand with his thumb.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”


	5. 6/8/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt: You should do fluffy stancest reunion. Except it's reverse roles so author stan has been trying for thirty years to rebuild the portal.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite ones! Reunions are my weakness, I never fail to tear up with them. Also, this one got a bit wordy, so heads up on that. That's what I get for listening to Chopin while I wrote it.

It had the potential to tear their universe apart. Billions, possibly trillions, of lives would be lost. Turning on the portal was the most selfish thing he could do.

He’s done the calculations hundreds of times. They’ve swam in his brain constantly. The chances of finding his brother at all were slim. Finding him alive? Even slimmer.

Yet no matter what the numbers and algorithms screamed at him, no matter what percentage or logical thought, he wouldn’t give up.

He couldn’t give up.

Because he knows his brother would do the same if it had been him.

So he never did.

That’s what brought them here, standing a few feet away from each other, staring at each other through glazed over eyes.

Who was he anymore? Had he changed at all? 30 years is such a long time to be apart. To be isolated and afraid.

Everyone in the room stood tense. Emotionally heavy air weighed Stanley down as he stepped forward.

“Stanley?” His voice was hoarse, quiet. As if he hadn’t spoken in years. To this person, he hadn’t.

The addressed person nearly went limp. He took a quick breath in, reveling in the moment.

A tentative smile crept onto his face as he took in the sight of his beloved slowly walking towards him.

All it took was for him to step down from the ledge and his feet flew on their own.

The author had no idea whether to shield his face or to outstretch his arms. His heart must have won out because he captured Stanley in an embrace that instantly dissipated 30 years of uncertainty.

Ford buried his face in Stanley's shoulder and held back a sob of rapture. The hand that ran through his hair caused his scalp to tickle.

His brother wondered at the fact that he could run his hand through Stan’s hair. He used to never let it get longer than his pinkie. “Too much work,” he’d always say.

Their brown eyes met through cracked glasses as they gently pulled apart. Only the daintiest of smiles graced their lips.

Stanley brought his hand up to caress his brothers cheek, rough stubble unfamiliar under his palm. Always the clean shaven one was Stanley before. Ford turns his head to press a delicate kiss against Stan's palm, causing a warmth in his heart that he hadn't felt for an eternity.

He gently pulls his brother down and places a tender kiss to his forehead. Ford sighs at the touch, closing his eyes in bliss.

The giggle of a child causes the two to be yanked from their absorption.

Dipper and Mabel stood slack jawed. The taller of the two seemed to have regained control of her mind and was giving them a bit of an odd look.

Ford’s heart sunk as reality came flooding back to him. He sighed and defeatedly glanced at his brother.

Understanding their happy family reunion might have to wait, Lee pulls away as Stanley clears his throat.

Stanford wasn’t surprised at all when Stan's knuckles brushed against his wrist.

His six fingered hand effortlessly entwined with his brothers own. After 30 years, their hands still pieced together so perfectly.


	6. 7/21/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt** : "Please don't look at me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no write. I apologize, I've been out of my writing groove lately! Trying to get some stuff done before I go on a short trip, so expect a little bit more sometime soon. Don't get your hopes up, though. This is the one that changes the rating! There's nothing explicit, just tons of tons of body worship and kissing.

For it being the first time in over 30 years, they were taking it unbelievably slow. Stanford didn’t want to rush a second of it, reveling in the tenderness of his brothers touches. Gentle lips against his heated skin pulled light gasps from his throat. The hand rubbing down his side caused a mixture of both electricity and security.

Stanley latched onto the side of Ford’s throat as he hooked the hem of his shirt in his fingers. As he began to pull it up it was as if he had physically pulled the security right out of Ford. Stanford quickly grabbed Lee’s wrist, and he tensed at the sudden halt. Stanley pulled back to give him a questioning look, but Ford couldn’t bring himself to look into his eyes.

“Don’t.” Ford whispers, not releasing his grip on his brother’s wrist.

Stanley’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. He let go of the shirt and instead lifted his hand to cup Ford’s face as he leaned back to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” He patiently asks.

Ford takes a deep breath in as Lee rubs his thumb against his cheek.

“I’m hideous under this shirt.” Ford breathes out. Stanley gasps, as if offended. He lifts Ford’s face to look him straight in the eyes.

“Whatever is under yours will be ten times better than what’s under mine.” Stanley sternly states. Ford gives a bitter smile at that. The firm line on Lee’s face show that he is serious. He moves his hand to Ford’s shirt once more and gently takes it in his hand as he nuzzles his face into Ford’s neck. Ford freezes and tightens his grip on Lee’s shoulder.

“Let me see you.” Stanley murmurs against Ford’s neck, causing him to shudder. Both in arousal and in fear. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? He doesn’t think he could handle a look of disgust from his brother. Stanley feels his brothers gulp against his lips. Ford gives a slight nod and Lee stepped back to slowly pull the shirt over Ford’s head.

He holds in a gasp at the sight. Scars painted his brothers chest, crisscrossing all along his body. His eyes roved over every detail. He counted the claw marks, the bullet holes, the one that seemed to engulf his entire right side. Ford stared at his lap instead of his brothers wide eyes. Moments passed before they either said a word.

“Please don’t look at me.” Ford pleaded weakly. Stanley’s eyes that were previously glued on his brothers torso darted up to Ford’s nervous features. He became suddenly aware of his mouth hanging open, and pressed his lips closed into a determined frown.

He stepped forward and only hesitated for a moment before placing a tentative hand over Ford’s heart. Ford twitched at the touch, hanging his head and staring down at Lee’s hand. Stanley gently pushed him back, and Ford was guided backwards towards the bed. When the back of his leg met the mattress he slowly sat down. Stanley placed his hands on Stanford’s shoulders and leaned down to be eye level with him.

He took a deep, slightly shaky breath in. “Ford.”

Ford glanced up at him with doe like eyes.

Stanley had the warmest smile he had ever seen.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Ford did a sharp intake of breath before Lee captured him in a kiss. He slowly fell back as Stanley placed a knee on the bed. Lips moved lightly against each other as Stanley straddled his brother. Ford rumbled deep in his throat and wrapped his arms around Lee’s neck. Desire gave out over his self-consciousness and he pressed harder against Lee’s kiss, tongue darting out to brush his lips. Stanley responded with a hum and returned the favor. They pull back to breathe as Ford runs a hand through Lee’s hair.

Lee takes no time in trailing kisses down to Ford’s chest. He runs his hands over Ford’s torso, tracing along the scars.  Ford gasps when Lee sucks on an indented part of his skin, what looked to be a bullet hole. He brushes his lips along a long scar that stretched over his stomach. Left butterfly kisses on every single miniscule scratch. Not a single discolored inch of skin was left unloved. He wanted to memorize every single scratch, gash, and indent of his brother. Every single perfect imperfection would be dedicated to memory. If he could he would spend hours just adoring the way they marked his skin. Every soft kiss and playful bite Lee gave sent fireworks through Ford. The small noises that escaped him were more beautiful to Lee than a symphony.

Long into the night they made love. Lee payed special attention to each scar, making sure Ford knew how stunning he was. And as they lay side by side, basking in the aftermath, Lee continued to trace the scars with his fingers. Ford fell asleep long before Stanley stopped.

He placed a final, tender kiss to Ford’s forehead before following him into a blissful sleep.


	7. 8/6/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt: Can write a Fan-fic based on Stan self-conscious about how much he's aged compared to the Author. Thanks!**

Stan examined the lines on his face in the mirror. The frown he gives at them only serve to worsen the effect. A long sigh escapes him as he reaches into the tap to splash water across his weathered features. He blindly reaches for the towel hanging to the side and begins to dab his face.

He pauses when there’s a light knock on the already opened bathroom door. He looks up into the mirror to see his brother standing there in a black sweater and sweatpants. They only make eye contact for a moment through the reflection before Stan buries his face into the towel again.

Ford comes up beside him and grabs his toothbrush from the cup on the sink. Lee quietly watches from over the towel as his brother begins to brush his teeth. He can’t help but admire the way he seemed to have barely aged. Hair not nearly as gray as his own, muscles still visibly toned, very few wrinkles. If they weren’t born on the same day he’d have assumed they were at least a decade apart in age. Not to mention he still had the same enthusiasm about the supernatural and stamina of his young self.

Ford suddenly glancing his way causes him to jump and clear his throat. Ford rinses out his mouth as Lee hangs up the towel again.

“What’s the matter?” Ford asks noncommittally as he dries his hand on the towel Lee just hung up. Stanley sighs once more and rests his hands on the sides of the sink. Ford waits patiently as Stanley collects himself.

“What happened to me?” Stanley stares at himself in the mirror intently, scowl on his face. “I’ve aged terribly, and you’re over here looking like you’ve got your very own Fountain of Youth.”

Stanford inwardly laughs at his brothers over-exaggeration. He places a hand of comfort on his shoulder and waits for him to go on.

“You’re still so handsome, and look at me!” He makes a motion at himself before slumping once more, defeated. “I can barely make it up the stairs anymore. You’ve still got the energy you had when you were 18.”

“Nonsense,” Ford tsks, “I’m just as much an old fart as you are.”

“Ford, you vaulted over a fence chasing after a gnome and you didn’t break a sweat.”

“… That doesn’t prove anything.”

Stanley gives a bitter laugh at that. The comforting smile on Ford’s face falters as Stanley stares at himself with disdain. The cogs in his brain start turning, as he tries to think up a way to cheer his brother up. A sudden memory of cheesy decorations, and too sweet punch, makes his eyes go wide and his happy grin return.

Stanley tenses when Ford steps behind him and wraps his arms around his middle. His self-conscious makes him want to tear those burly arms from around his stomach, but Ford locks his fingers together. The tender kiss Ford presses to the back of his neck serves to calm him, but only slightly. He tentatively places his hands over Ford’s own.

“I know one thing you’re still able to do.” Ford murmurs, muffled slightly against Lee’s skin. Stanley raises an eyebrow. Ford places his chin on Lee’s shoulder, and he’s grinning like he just solved world hunger. Stanley gives him a quizzical look in the mirror.

“Why are you smiling like tha-Hey!” Stan was cut off when Ford gripped his wrist and whipped him around. There was a mischievous glint in Ford’s eye as he backed out into the hallway, dragging a confused Stanley with him by the hand. He guided him backwards down the hall and into the parlor, playful smile stuck permanently on his face.

Ford had been back for at least half a year, so the house had more or less turned back to it’s original state. Shelves held books that had previously been in storage, a brand new sofa was purchased for the room, and a velvet rug tied it all together quite nicely. It looked similar to Soos’ break room, before he… well, before he started using it for his break room.

“Ford, what the heck is going on?” Stanley asks as Ford directs him to the couch. He plops down onto it as Ford giddily makes his way to the shelf on the other wall. Stanley watches curiously as Ford walks his fingers along the thin cardboard sleeves, searching for one in particular he knows Stanley will remember. He gives a small “Ah-ha!” as he plucks a red sleeve from the shelf. He looks at the cover proudly before walking to the record player near the door. Stanley only got a quick glimpse of the title, not long enough to read it, but something about it was vaguely familiar.

Ford unsheathes the record and places it on the turntable. He sets the needle on the track, and Stanley quickly recognizes the melody. The stunned look on Stan’s face makes Ford snort inwardly as he walks to stand in front of him. He extends his hand to Lee, who glances between it and Ford’s smug face. Stanley catches on quickly, and his surprise turns into a scowl.

“Ford, I am not going to dance with you. Especially when you’re wearing a sweater with a smiling planet on it.”

Ford blinks, seemingly forgetting he was wearing one of the sweaters Mabel had sent him for hanukkah. He looks sheepish for only a moment before shrugging it off.

“Come on, Stan,” Ford encourages “What’s the harm? Unless…” He gasps in mock horror, bringing a hand up to his face “You haven’t forgotten how to dance, have you?!”

Stanley scoffs, "After all those nights Ma made us practice? ‘Course not.“

"So…?” Ford drags out the 'o’ sound, letting the offer hang in the air. Stanley takes one more glance at Ford’s outstretched palm before placing his own over it. Ford pulls him to his feet as the music picks up, the familiar notes bringing back memories long forgotten until now. Ones of two nervous Jersey boys, one excited mother, and one extremely disapproving father.

Stanley let’s himself be lead to the middle of the room. He almost reflexively goes into position, placing his hand on Stanford’s shoulder as Ford did his side. They linked their other hands together, and Ford took the lead from there. He began guiding them into a simple square. Stanley was nervously glancing at his feet as they floated around the room. At first they were both a bit out of sync. Ford nearly stepped on Stanley’s foot a few times. Slowly, though, they got back into the groove of things. As the steps came back to them, it was like they were kids again. Back in their old house, gliding through the moves with ease. Only this time Stan was acne free, and Ford was much more confident than he was back then.

Their smiles mirror each other just as they did back then. Stanford twirls easily in Stanleys arms, chuckling at how ridiculous this must look. Two old brothers in their PJ’s, doing the waltz to a song that was clearly ballet. But he couldn’t care less at the moment, face practically hurting from how much he was smiling.

“See? I don’t think there’s an old man alive who can dance as well as you do.” Ford reassures, neither of them ever missing a beat in their steps. Stanley’s smile grows smug.

“Who says I’m an old man?” Stanley rebukes.

Ford gasps in surprise when his feet are lifted off the ground. Stanley spins with Ford in his arms, both of them giggling like children. That is, until, there’s a loud cracking sound. Ford’s eyes widen and Stanley freezes in place, face gone pale.

“Uhm…” Ford hesitates “Was that your…?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need me to get your orthopedic back pillow?”

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song they danced to is Waltz of the Flowers by Tchaikovsky, by the way!


	8. 10/11/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble with a vague beginning and an even vaguer ending.

Stanley’s back was slammed into the wall before he could react. His ears rang and his head began to pound, but he had much bigger things to worry about.

Like the six fingered death grip on his shoulders.

Stanley stared at the top of his brothers head, too stunned to say anything. They were both panting, one from fear and the other from anger. Ford never took his eyes off the ground, even as he began to speak.

“Stanley,” Stanford’s voice was deceivingly calm, quiet. It made shivers crawl up Stanley’s spine. “I don’t care. You can lie to me about the first ten years we were apart. You can lie to me about the thirty years you spent trying to get me back. You can lie to me about the crimes you’ve committed. I really, truly, do not care.”

Ford lifted his head and their eyes locked together. His features were eerily blank, but Stanley knew he was seething just beneath the surface. Stan held his breath.

“But don’t lie to me about this.”

Stanley, who’d managed to maintain eye contact with his brother, had to look away. The way Ford’s gaze softened into a pleading look made a lump form in his throat.

“Now,” Stanford’s grip on his shoulders tightened, and so did the knot in Stanley’s throat. “I’m going to repeat the question.”

Stanley gulped. Ford’s hands were shaking. Time seemed to slow in anticipation for the question Stanley really didn’t want to answer.

“Do you still love me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know I know, this is impossibly short. But I haven't updated this in SUCH a long time (Yikes, 2 months) and you guys deserve at least SOMETHING. It also gives me the chance to truly apologize - I haven't been writing too much lately. More specifically, I haven't been writing anything finished or worthwhile. I've sort of lost my muse as of late, to the point that I don't think I'll be getting it back any time soon. So I apologize, because the long stretches of nothing coming from me will continue. I hope y'all can forgive me.


	9. 10/16/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has kinda moved from the prompts I get into anything I end up writing. This one is just a sweet moment with Ford showing Stan how much he loves him.

Stan would have jumped at the sudden kiss against his cheek, had he not been previously distracted by the TV. That didn’t stop him from whipping his head in the direction of his brother, surprise written all over his face. Ford gave him a small smile, but it slowly faded away as Stan’s own expression faded into confusion. Ford’s eyebrows furrowed, and Stan immediately knew his face had slipped, and cleared his throat as he looked away awkwardly. He fixed his eyes on the TV and hoped Ford would think nothing of it.

“What was that face for?”

He doesn’t know why he expected luck to be on his side.

“What face?” Stan asked, playing oblivious. He didn’t take his eyes from the screen.

“The look you just gave me.” Ford persisted.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” Stan rolled his eyes, hoping Ford would take that and leave it. Please just leave it.

Ford stepped between him and the TV, forcing Stan to look at him. He put his hand on Stans knee and squated to be just below eye level with him. His thumb rubbed the side of his leg as his eyes searched Stanley’s face. It wasn’t easy to do with Stan looking everywhere but Ford’s face.

“Stan. Tell me.” Ford whispered it out, and it sounded so concerned and so pleading that-

“It’s nothing, Ford, it’s just-” Stan snapped his mouth shut before he could continue.

“It’s just  _what_?” Ford tilted his head to the side, voice staying consistently soft.

Stan sighed and shook his head, before finally looking into Ford’s eyes with his own. He gave in.

“You usually don’t do stuff like that.” Stanley mumbled.

“‘Like that’?” Ford parroted, questioning Stan’s words as if it weren’t obvious.

“Like…” Stan paused, wondering how he was supposed to word this. “Kisses on the cheek. You don’t usually show affection like that.”

Stanford’s head tilted even more at that and his concern transitioned quickly into bewilderment. “I don’t?”

“Not really.”

Stanford looked down at his hand on Stan’s knee and racked his brain. The longer he searched, the more he realised how right Stan was, and the more his heart sank. Ford practically deflated before Stan’s eyes.

“…  _I really don’t_?” It was a helpless question that he already knew the answer to.

Stan’s heart panged and he leaned forward so he could put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Ford, it’s not a big deal.”

Ford looked back up at him, lips in a frown and eyes in a glare.

He caught that lie.

Ford lurched forward and swung his arms around Stanley’s neck, pulling him down with him. Stan ignored the slight pain in his back and wrapped his arms comfortingly around his brother.

“Ford, really, it’s alright.” Fords arms tightened around him. Stan rubbed a circle in his back in return. “It’s not like stuff like that is important.”

“But it is, Stanley.” Ford’s voice is muffled by Stan’s shoulder. Stanley loosens his grip as Ford pulls away. The kiss that gets pressed against his cheek is hard, Ford pressing his lips against his skin as if the more hard he presses, the more it will make up for all the ones he didn’t give before. He pulls back again and presses his forehead against Stanley’s. Their glasses click together awkwardly “It is important. It’s important to me.”

“Ford…” Stanley draws a blank, worried about Ford’s desperate tone.

“ _These_ ,” Ford presses a kiss to Stan’s nose. Another between his eyebrows, one to each cheek, one on his forehead “are just as important as you are to me.”

Stans cheeks color and his heart swells. Ford gives Stanley one more light kiss, right on the lips this time, before burying his face into Stans shoulder again.

“It’s important that you know how important you are.” Ford whispers. Stan practically melts, and he cant help the warm sigh that escapes him as he pulls Ford closer. Ford let’s himself be dragged into Stans lap. They sat there a while, Ford still peppering Stan with kisses in any place he could and Stanley basking in all the attention.

“You’re a huge sap, you know that?” Stanley murmurs with a smile, burying his face in Ford’s hair.

“Only when you force me to be one” Ford grumbles.

Stan laughs and that sound is the second most important thing in Ford’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so OOC. I was tired. Also the date is approximate I can't remember when this was posted exactly.


	10. 11/12/2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins find themselves in a motel.

Always check the tank for gas before going on long trips. Logical and practical advice that the Stan twins should have followed. Maybe then they wouldn’t have had to hunker down in a suspicious Motel, with a stain in the lobby that was either urine or blood and you don’t really want to know which one it was. Maybe then they wouldn’t be stuck in a single room for the night with no change of clothes and barely any money in their pockets.

Maybe then they wouldn’t be in… this situation.

He’s not quite sure how they got into it. They could be drunk, though he doesn’t recall ever downing a drink that night. Could be that they inhaled some weird aphrodisiac, that made even your own twin brother look like the most enticing thing on Earth. Maybe it was just loneliness, both of them going too long without another persons touch.

Whatever it was that brought them to this point, Stanley couldn’t care less, because his brothers face is inches from his own and he’s looking at him with such an intensity that he’s not sure he can stay standing for much longer.

Stanley has his arms around his brothers neck, and Stanford’s hands are on Stanley’s hips. Somehow it feels like they’re radiating heat, all twelve fingers sending a fire through Stan’s body. Ford’s face certainly is. Even in the darkness of the room, he can see the heated red on Fords cheeks. He wonders how warm his lips would feel against his own…

He didn’t have to wonder for long. Ford gradually leans his face closer. God, why is he going so slow? It’s like time has hit a stand still. But Stan can feel Fords breath mixing with his own, and his lips are brushing against his ever so slightly. As if he’s asking him for confirmation to keep going.

So he gives it. His arms around Fords neck squeeze him the rest of the way, pressing their lips together, and it pulls all the air out of both their lungs.

Stan feels Ford shiver against him, and Ford presses his lips harder. He presses his whole body harder, forcing Stan to walk backwards until he’s being shoved against the wall.

Stanley’s back is pressed uncomfortably into the cheap hotel blinds, but he doesn’t care. All he feels is Fords body pressed against his and his heart hammering in his chest. His hands travel up, running his fingers through Fords hair and he must of liked that because he groans against his lips.

Stan’s head is going to explode if he makes a noise like that again.

Then Fords tongue brushes against his lips and he’s pretty sure his head did explode.

He parts his lips and Fords tongue brushes against his own, and he can’t help the whimper it draws from him. Ford starts shucking off his coat as their tongues moved against each other, and once it falls to the floor he finally pulls back for air.

It takes a moment for Stanley to remember how to breathe, and it’s not helping that Ford is panting along with him. Their foreheads are pressed against each other, both equally sweaty, but it doesn’t really register because Stanley’s lips are tingling and his heart is thumping so hard in his chest he feels like it’s gonna break his ribs.

Some of the tacky, brightly colored light seeps in through the now bent blinds, illuminating them in a neon red. It makes their flushed faces look even more red than they already were. Stan sighs happily, a smile planted firmly on his lips.

Then Stanford sighs too, and it’s not the kind of happy sigh Stan was expecting. It was heavy, something you’d hear from someone getting home from a bad day at work. Ford’s hands move to Stan’s shoulders, and he pulls their foreheads apart. Ford squeezes his eyes shut, and hangs his head in a way that twists Stans gut. He holds his breath and hopes to god he didn’t majorly fuck up.

But then Ford grabs his shirt and undoes the first button, then the second, and as he does, he whispers, barely heard over Stan’s own heartbeat drumming in his ears.

“You need to tell me to stop, because that’s the only way I will.”

Stan tenses for a moment, and at the same time Ford halts his hands at the third button. Stanley blinks, and the smile returns to his face. There’s a tense moment before Stan puts a hand under Fords chin, and tilts his face up to look at him. Fords eyes search Stans, but if he’s looking for a ‘stop’ he’s not gonna get one. Because the only thing in Stan’s eyes right now is complete and unadulterated love. That’s all Ford sees before he’s yanked into another kiss that screams “Don’t stop.” Before the teeth scraping against his neck say “Keep going.” Before the moans on his brothers lips cry “I want this.”

Before everything tells him that Stan wouldn’t stop it even if it caused the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say here other than, for something I rushed as a gift for a friend, I like this a bit more than I thought I would.


	11. 30/1/2016

It had been nagging at him since they’d left the port. They’d finally graduated high school. They’d finally gotten to live out their dream of going sailing around the world. It was a dream come true for the both of them.

Or at least, Stanley hoped it was. He’s been getting suspicious.

What if it was only his dream come true?

After all, Ford had been ecstatic for West Coast Tech. Then, he’d… refused them. He didn’t show for the presentation, he’d stayed home with his brother and promise him he was going nowhere, except around the world on a boat with his best friend. But it felt like… it was empty.

Did he regret it?

The question had birthed itself in his brain and dug it’s claws into his soul, refusing to let go. Sometimes he could ignore it, scare it away with the reminder that Ford had a smile on his face as they set off to sea. Other times, it screamed at him, begging him to find the answer, and he couldn’t help but agree with it. He wanted to know the answer to the question. But he was so afraid that the answer would be yes, that he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

So he let it be. Did his best to will the thought away, disregard it if he could. He managed to ignore it for the better part of 3 years.

Then, on their 21st birthday, the question came right back to the forefront of his mind. He’s not entirely sure why, it could have been the alcohol, maybe the throbbing pain in his left eye, but it came back.

“You okay?” Ford called from down the dock, making Stanley almost jump out of his skin.

Stan’s one good eye widened, and he cleared his throat, trying to mask his concerns. “Yeah, m'alright. Got that ice?”

Ford held up the small plastic bag, and Stan sighed in relief before extending a hand, making a grabby motion. Ford chuckled, placing the cold pouch in Stans waiting hand, and Stan didn’t hesitate to slap it to his face with a dramatic moan. Ford laughed again at that, and Stan’s heart swelled at the sound. He loved when he could make that happen.

“You’re lucky they gave that to me, after you punched their bartender in the face.” Ford teased.

“He was making fun of you, Sixer, what else was I supposed to do?” Stan whined.

“Um, think rationally and _not_ punch the guy with a ‘Born to Punch’ tattoo. You were basically asking for that black eye.”

“Anyone who says that to you deserves a punch in the face, tattoo or no tattoo.” Stan mumbled weakly.

Ford shrugged and settled in on Stan’s right, removing his shoes and hanging his feet over the dock like him. The water was still a ways beneath them, they would have to stretch down to dip their toes in, but it was still just as relaxing as if they were in the water. He placed his hand over his brothers, and Stan hesitated for just a moment before intertwining their fingers. Ford noticed the pause but decided to ignore it. The only sound for a long while was the water lapping against the dock and the boats. He smiled up at the sky, happy that they were far enough from the town and lights that they could see some stars in the sky. Ford could never get used to looking up at a completely pitch black sky, not after so many nights at sea when you could see every single one twinkling in the sky. Ford was pulled from his stargazing when Stan’s hand tightened around his own, and he turned to look at him. The troubled look his brother had made his smile disappear. He opened his mouth to see what was wrong, but Stan was quick to cut him off as he lowered the ice pack from his face.

“Do you regret it?”

Ford’s head tilted at the question. “Regret what? The bar? Stan, stuff like that will happen anywhere we go.”

Stan shook his head. “Not that.” He glanced at him for a moment, seeing Ford give him an even more questioning look, but his eyes quickly diverted afterwards. After a second of him staring down at the water, he closed his eyes. “Do you regret going treasure hunting with me?”

It caught Ford so off guard that all he could do was stare at his twin, mouth hanging open uselessly. Stan deflated the longer the silence went on, never looking over at his brother as he began to ramble in panic.

“After all that’s happened - that thing with the seagulls, or when we got robbed, or when the boat broke down, and tonight - I can understand if you do.” Stan said, speaking faster than he even thought he was capable of. “I know you didn’t really want to go in the first place, either.” The statement made his whole body seem to tighten. He’d always thought that, but now, saying it aloud, seemed to make it all the more worse. His eyes stung. “That school was your dream and all. If you’d gone there, you’d probably have… I don’t know, a diploma, a big ol’ house on a hill… And now you have _nothing_.”

The whole world seemed to stand still after that. Even the lapping of the water and the distant sounds of the town became muted around them. Stan slumped down. After getting all of that out of his system, he felt exhausted.

“ _You’re wrong_.”

Stan blinked, a tear escaping his eye and plopping down into the salty water below. He turned wide-eyed to his equally as wide-eyed brother.

“You’re wrong. About _all_ of that.” Ford repeated, leaning closer to Stan. “I never regretted it, not for a moment.” He took Stan’s face in his hands, careful to avoid the bruise. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I did, but I could never regret doing this with you.”

Stan stared at him owlishly, clearly not entirely believing every word Ford said. Ford could feel his heart shrivel at his doubt, and he tugged Stans face closer so he could kiss the corner of Stan’s eye, wiping away one of the tears with his lips. Stan sobbed at the action, leaning more into his brother.

“If we never came out here,” Ford started, voice beginning to warble with emotion “I would never be able to do this.” He tilted Stan’s face up, gently pressing their lips together for a moment, and he felt one of his twins tears hit his hand. He pulled back, rubbing the salty liquid away with his thumb. “I wouldn’t have realized my feelings for you. I would have been on the other side of the country if they’d accepted me. And away from you.”

Stan sniffled, and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Ford and clinging to his shirt, muffling sobs into the fabric. “I-I thought you-” Ford clung to him right back, threading a hand through Stan’s hair as he gently hushed him, other hand bunched up in his shirt. He kissed Stan’s shoulder as he continued to cry into his chest

“I don’t have nothing, Stan. I have everything.” Ford tightened his grip on his brother. “I have _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack. This is really old but I keep forgetting to post the dang things. Really sorry!


	12. 19/2/2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a post about Stan accidentally calling Ford "babe."

Stan grumbled angrily as he sifted through the clothes in his bag for what felt like the 5th time. It was the only article of clothing he had that was that brightly colored, why couldn’t he find it now? He knew it was in here. He swore it was in here. It had to be, where else would he have put it? Finally, out of frustration, he dumped the entire contents of the duffle bag onto the bed and tried sorting through that. He was going to unpack it all eventually, anyways. When even that proved not to help, he threw a handful of clothes over his head in annoyance.

Just in time for Ford walk in, making a noise of surprise when he suddenly got whapped in the head by a flying shirt. Stan grimaced as the shirt hit the floor, revealing Ford’s dazed face. He blinked twice, then tilted his head in concern and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “If… you want me to leave-”

“Oh, no no!” Stan quickly reassured, “I’m sorry, babe, I just can’t find my jacket.” Stan quickly explained, not noticing at first how Ford tensed. Ford stared at him wide eyed, and Stan raised an eyebrow at the expression for a moment before realising what had slipped through. His jaw was set tight as he cleared his throat, Ford’s cheeks starting to color, and he was about to turn back towards the bed when Ford extended something his way. He stared down at the royal blue jacket for a moment before chuckling nervously.

“Guess I packed it in the wrong bag, huh?” Stan said in embarrassment, looking back up to his brother. Ford’s eyes were towards the floor, and though there was still quite the impressive blush there, Stan knew that face. That was the face he got when he was thinking something over. He resitsted the urge to clear his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck and wordlessly took the jacket from his twin. He turned to the side as he unfolded the clothing, pausing a moment before muttering “Thanks.”

Ford finally looked up at him, though Stan only saw it out of the corner of his eye. He’d only gotten his arm through one sleeve before Ford stepped forward and gently pulled Stan’s face towards him, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“No problem, love.” Ford whispered, lips ghosting over Stan’s cheek as he spoke. Stan tensed, face immediately growing heated at the word. He didn’t have a chance to recover enough to respond before Ford turned and left the room, as if he didn’t just make Stan’s whole body flush with a single word.

He made a mental note to himself to use that nickname much, much more often.

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters will be added as I get more requests.


End file.
